His Secret Keeper
by xOhxSnapx
Summary: AU. HPDM. Harry's got a secret and Draco's keeping it. After his seventh year at Hogwarts Harry got infected and left England with Draco with him. A year later they return to the country that they left, but things aren't exactly what they seem to be anymo
1. Welcome Home

**Summary:** Harry's got a secret and Draco's keeping it. After his seventh year at Hogwarts Harry got infected and left England with Draco with him. A year later they return to the country that they left, but things aren't exactly what they seem to be anymore. How long will it before Harry's secret is out, and who exactly infected him?  
**Authors Note:** Completely new for me. I'm still playing around with their personalities a bit because they're not ickle Hogwarts students anymore. They're university students now... Yeah. I don't own anything, blah, blah.

- - - -

It felt just like any other day really. Typical, run of the mill type of thing. Even the weather seemed the same, just like he remembered it being this time of year. Fairly windy with an overcast of clouds not thick enough to be that of rain clouds. Still, it was enough for Draco to know that he was home at last. He had spent one whole year away from England to go to a school over in the states, for a reason he himself didn't even understand, and with someone whom he loathed, he had just done it. Now, he was back, and wasn't completely sure exactly why he was back. In his wake at Flarus University, for what little time he had been on campus he had spent indoors, gray eyes idly scanning the students, however he walked with a lazy stride, showing his little interest on the actually happenings.

Upon coming outside he stood for a small moment with his bangs as always falling into his eyes as he cast a glance around him, taking in his outdoor surrounding, becoming familiar with it all. And then he pushed back his bangs and began to walk, looking about as impassive as he had been when he was a first year back at Hogwarts, waiting to be sorted. Of course this meant his head was held in a high a proud manner, and his stride was confident, as it should have been. It was all to be a blame on his upbringing, and those of which he grew up with, and around, the Zabini's, the Parkinson's, Greengrass', and many more. Draco, in all his years, had slightly altered. Now, more than anything, he was slightly more hushed than before. Well, maybe not.

As Draco made his way across the grounds a sneer slowly graced his features at a loud eruption of laughter. There was just a thing about some peoples laughter that irked him to no extent, and when they just let it all go like that, well, it too irked him to no extent. He would make due, however, just as he had always in the past. Now, more than halfway across the grounds he averted his path down to the forest. Anywhere, he reasoned, was better than being in the dead eye of the rest of the student body, or so he would have liked to believe. Maybe it was some kind of paranoia of being new to a school that many of his old friends had been attending for the past year. Well, what ever it was, it was irking him as well.

Draco saw no point in turning back now, once he had already entered the forest. He didn't have a care for any rule set toward the forest. It made due for a small escape from a rampant reality of being back in his homeland, and feeling like he was in a new country all over again. It was stupid, really. There was nothing that he should have been worried about, and yet he was. Though about what he didn't know either. Having forgotten how long he had been walking, and forgotten how far he had gone into the forest Draco stopped and glanced around him, and physically relaxed. There was just something about being in a forest that was always so calming, never mind that in some cases there were deadly and dangerous creatures roaming about.

The trees around him billowed high over head, their roots in the ground sprouting out of the ground, some just barely reaching the surface of the forest floor. Few fallen trees lay off in the distance behind a thicket of more trees and various bushes. There was a cluster of flapping of wings, the twitter of some kind of bird, and the distinct cawing of a crow. The wind whistled through the trees and their branches, picking up fallen dead leaves from the ground for a few blissful moments of flight before the leaves pervaded on the forest floor and lay to rest, blending in with the brown of the dirt.

Draco gave a nonchalant roll of his shoulders before he moved to lean against a tree as he continued to take in his surroundings, listening to the distant caw of crows, and the not so distant flapping of wings, and the rustling of bushes and leaves. Alone time, was all well and good when in a forest all alone left to the sound of nature. Well, that was what he was taught to believe, and frankly, Draco wasn't quite sure he really believe in any of that. He still felt like the new kid in school. Which was ridiculous. He was only _a_ new kid.

"And to think, I thought Parkinson was lying," came a drawling voice. Draco couldn't help to pick his head up a bit. "You have come back, Malfoy."

Draco fought back the obvious smirk and settle for a sneer, leaning heavily against the tree. "Zabini, if I had wanted to talk with you don't you think I would have sought you out?" he replied, arching his eyebrows. He shifted against the tree, allowing the dark skinned boy to meet his gaze. "Pansy attends here, then? Word will get around fast if she is in fact the one who told you." He smirked, not at all fond of the idea. After all, he had spent a whole year away from London, from everyone, and his business was his own.

Truth be told it was because of his _roomie_ that he was back in the pit of snakes and twisted truths. He hated it from the moment they had stepped onboard their plane back from the states.

Blaise seemed to be regarding him with narrowed eyes which only caused Draco to scowl. From what Blaise could see Draco hadn't changed that much. Just an inch or two longer and looking like he hadn't cut his hair in a month, with the way that his hair hung over his eyes every so often. The Malfoy was still the same. Blaise snorted softly to himself, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, cocking his head to the side, as if trying to determine whether or not this was still the same Draco that he had known a year ago before he went away.

"He's back too, isn't he?" He questioned, his eyes still narrowed, watching as Draco's scowl deepened.

"Oh, what a smart boy you are," Draco snapped, pushing himself away from the tree. "He's back, yes."

Blaise stood up straight. "Why did you leave, Draco, for a whole sodding year?"

"Ah," Draco said, tilting his chin up. "That, Blaise, would be telling, wouldn't it?"

- - -

He rubbed at the side of his neck, defeated. It was far too early in the morning to be expected to unpack all of his belongings into the room. And the room smelled. It was more like a loft than anything. Actually, now that he thought about it, it was a loft, and its previous owners obviously didn't know a how to cast a good cleaning spell, or an odor removement spell. Still, they had all the time in the world to make it their own. It was a new year, and everything was all set, nothing could go wrong, not this time. Harry would make sure that he told his friends the truth about why he left, but not right away.

The _Boy Who Lived_ couldn't have been any happier to be back in England. Returning home was like picking up your favorite book after having lost it. It was still the same and yet he noticed something now that he hadn't before, and it made him wonder if he was wrong to have left in the first place, and if he would be able to make this life work. It was a new school, different from the one he had attended in the states, and much more advanced than Hogwarts had ever been.

But he couldn't call it home. He couldn't live with in the walls in one of its three houses, similar to those of Hogwarts, like the rest of the students attending. No, Harry had to share the loft; it wasn't something new to him. He had shared his last one too, and with the same person, and he hoped it would be different now. Harry wanted to at least get a good feel for this school; he wanted to be with his friends again but that wouldn't happen unless he felt right with the school.

"I could tell you one hundred possible ways that you could have been done unpacking by now," Draco drawled from the door, having slid into the loft some few minutes ago.

Harry didn't bother to turn around as he responded. "I'd rather you didn't, thanks."

"Oh, but they would very enticing, I assure you," the blonde replied, striding over to the other end of the room, not bothering at all to see what Harry was doing. "Besides, _someone_ needs to teach you how to unpack properly and neatly."

Harry walked into the next room and closed the door before reemerging from it. He glanced up at Draco once, wrinkling his nose. Yes, the loft had an awful smell, he had decided. "I thought you were going out," he commented offhandedly before sitting in front of a box that most likely contained what little books they had used in their classes last year.

"I did go out," Draco replied, waving his hand dismissively. "And then I came back. You know, that tends to happen a lot when you live somewhere. You go out, and come back after a while," he paused, watching as Harry dug through the books. "Potter, I've got a brilliant idea! Why don't you give it a try?"

Harry just shrugged. "Maybe latter. Unless you want to help unpack?"

"Good Merlin, no," Draco sniffed. "I did the packing."


	2. The Dream

_He was standing in a hall. It wasn't just any hall - it was a hall of the Grimmauld Place, near where the stairs lead to the kitchen. The hardwood floors were crumbling and broken and the paint and wallpaper on the walls was peeling and cracked. There were holes in the walls as well. There was rubble lying all around and the ceiling was falling to pieces, revealing the dark, rainy night sky. The rain was falling so heavily that it began dripping off of his hair. _

There was a howl from behind him and he turned around quickly, whipping out his wand. He shouted 'Lumos'_ . The light from his wand flickered once and then died out. Fear gripped him in such a way that for a few moments that he felt the hairs on his arms and neck stand on end as a gust of cold wind howled in his ears. He wanted to be anywhere but in he hall. In the distance he could make out a pair of amber eyes. _

Light caught snarling teeth. There was nothing to produce the light - no lamps from inside the hall, no stars, and no moon. It was as though the creature growling at him from the shadows was materializing bit by bit. Despite the somewhat familiar surroundings, he felt quite lost. As though he had landed in some sort of alternate universe.

But the crumbling manor around him and the snarling creature before him was not alternate nor entirely surreal. From out of the shadows stepped a very familiar beast. He had known what the creature was before he saw it. He didn't have to see it to know what caused such an intense fear, even if a part of him wasn't afraid, and knew that the creature wasn't a beast. But then there were two, and he knew them at once, even if the second had taken him longer to figure out.

_Moony and Callo. _

But something was certainly different. The setting and the two wolves alone weren't enough to cause the feelings he felt. They were simply there. He felt terribly alone and afraid, vulnerable and watched. Instinct told him to run, and he did just that. He turned and ran as fast as he could, though it hardly seemed as though he were moving at all. The wolves were howling at him, jeering at his attempt to run away. Callo was howling, he could tell because that wolf was younger, and Moony was now growling.

He glanced over his shoulder. It was pointless to run, but he had to. Moony had lunged into a run, with Callo quickly at his heels. He ran faster, and faster, but it all seemed pointless. The wolves were still howling, and Moony seemed determined to catch him.

Quite suddenly he was in the entrance hall of the old house, though the wolves were still behind him. He hit the door with such a force that it felt as though he'd been thrown into it. Pain and fear wracked his body and he turned around slowly. Both wolves were still there, still staring at him with their amber and green eyes, growling at him. Moony advanced forward before lunging at him. He drew his arm up to protect himself from the angry wolf's attack, and the wolf bit hard into it. It tore into him and he struggled to get the door behind him open.

_Moony let him go, retreating back to the younger wolf. He gave a groan before sliding down to the ground at the foot of the door, not once taking his eyes off of the black wolf that now walked toward him. Callo nudged the side of his bleeding arm before licking his cheek. He regarded the wolf for a moment before reaching a hand out to touch it's muzzle. Callo caught his gaze for a moment before walking more into him, and then finally merging with him._

_He was seeing through the eyes of the young wolf; he was the young wolf. He was Callo.  
_

_The lock clicked and the door creaked open. He whimpered, lowering himself to the ground, placing his head on his front paws. Glancing behind him once he saw a colorful trail of golden brown were Moony had been and lowered his head once more after noting that his own colorful trail had been sort of a green. He moved to lay on his side, tucking in his head and tail as Moony approached. The older wolf was up against the door, pushing it open. Now, he figured that he really didn't like that smell, and whimpered once more. _

He rolled over and pushed himself to his feet clumsily. He was on his front step beside Moony and the door shut with a loud thud behind him. Lowering his own tail he gave a half whine and howl. To this Moony only growled before trotting down. He lowered his own head, wishing that he could black out the smell of death, wishing that he could go back inside, but Moony was calling to him. Moony was saying that he was in charge and that he had to listen to him or he would be in trouble. He slowly began to follow Moony.

Rotting flesh was rank in the air with the metallic smell of fresh blood. He whined looked around Moony was already a good several feet ahead of him, howling, calling him. White light was coming from somewhere far ahead of them both. What should have been a street was a field, it was the grounds of Hogwarts - littered with thousands, no, perhaps millions - of bodies. There wasn't a color but he saw the pool of blood that was forming, and flowing toward him. He yipped once and Moony howled, telling him he was in trouble.

Harry woke, gasping in a cold sweat. He was fairly certain that if he held his breath he could hear his heart pounding in his chest. He had his fists wrapped around the bed sheet. He didn't have the faintest idea what time it was, but he was very sure that he could still smell the stench of rotting flesh. He gave a groan before lying back against his pillow, pulling his blankets over his head, listing to his beating heart. Part of him was eager to leave the house, to do something, and part of him was to afraid to step a toe out of bed. Mostly he just wanted to sleep but found that a difficult task to accomplish after that dream.

No less than two minutes later he became aware that some one was moving about the small loft before rolling over and pushing himself up. Running two shaky hands through his hair Harry threw on a shirt before walking out of his room, already having on a pair of gray pajama bottoms. He winced against the light in the main room, and snorted softly, watching his roommate bustle around the place looking for something. Draco stopped once, looked at him, and scowled before continuing on. That was the morning greeting. Though Harry wasn't quite sure that it really was morning at the moment. Late after noon, maybe.

"Remind me again why I'm living with you, Potter," Draco drawled as he made his way back to the kitchen, only to dig through the cupboards there. "You are possibly the heaviest sleeper I have ever met. Not to mention you don't even seem very brave in bed."

Harry choked on his yawn, staring wide eyed at the blonde whom had just ducked behind the counter, still digging through the cupboard. "Right," was all he said for a moment before slouching down into a chair. He held his head in his hands, stifling another yawn. "I don't know, Malfoy, why are you? Is it because I'm paying you, and paying for you to attend whatever school we happen to come across?"

Draco looked up at him, clicking his tongue once, but didn't say anything. He smirked quietly to himself, still fishing through the cupboards before slamming it shut, and wincing at the loud sound. It wasn't fair, if you asked him. That bloody Weasley had used the fire to contact them. Well, to contact Harry, but that poor sod was out thrashing in his sleep. Apparently Pansy's little rumor of Harry being back in London had gotten around the campus of Flarus, and apparently so had Blaise's knowing of where he and Harry were staying. They were due for company that Draco didn't much want to have and that Harry didn't much know about. This was certainly turning out to be a very fun day indeed.

"Nightmares should be illegal," Harry grumbled through his hands. Draco sniggered at him before sitting up on the counter.

"You poor pup. Take a dreamless potion then," he offered bluntly with a roll of his shoulders.

Even though he knew Draco couldn't see him, Harry scowled. "You going to make them, then?" He asked, lifting his head up so that he could see the former Slytherin. "And I'm not a pup."

"No, but your wolf is," the blonde sniggered, slipping off of the counter. "I'll make your dreamless potion, Potter, but that's ten Sickles more on my monthly bill."

"Your monthly bill to meet my monthly problem."

"You mean your _furry little problem._"

"Bugger off, Malfoy."

They didn't say much else. Harry busied himself with looking at his left arm, tracing the scar on his forearm that was from the elbow to his wrist. Draco was busy looking at the paper, drinking what would have seemed to be tea, or just heated up water. It was the usual late morning routine. Harry was usually the last to get up, and then the two of them would have a short quip, go quiet, and then Harry was begin to fall back asleep. Then Draco had to clear his throat, causing Harry to look up at him with both eyebrows raised. He had opened his mother to ask a question, but Draco was already there with the answer.

"We have guests coming in-" He glanced at the clock, "five minutes. Weasley and Granger. Nearly died of shock when he fired, you know. You'd think that after all these years he'd recognize the best looking face of them all." Draco smirked before sniggering at himself. "You'll probably be wanting to get dressed, Potter. Even I don't fancy seeing you in your pajama's, looking like you've just had the best sex of your life when we both know that has yet to have happened."

Harry could only stare at Draco for what seemed like forever. Well, brilliant. They had guests coming in less than five minutes now, and he felt compelled to tell him about this _now_? He really had to wonder if his roommate was on some kind of potion that screwed with his brain cells or something. But still, he did little to complain about it before getting up and stretching his hands above his head. "And you didn't bother to wake me up? Merlin, Malfoy!" He grumbled before stalking off into his room to find a change of clothes.

Draco just smirked. "Coffee's on the counter, pup!" Harry threw something against the door. Draco sniggered.

Six minutes later Ron and Hermione had showed up, as promised, and Harry was still locked in his room, changing. Draco was left with the job was answering the door, and having to endure a rather awful silence with the two former Gryffindors. So he retreated back to his tea letting the two to look around the loft as they pleased, however keeping a watchful eye on the two of them. Hell if he was going to let them go about poking their noses in his things. They could go and trash all of Harry's stuff for all he cared. He did that on a daily basis anyway.

Eventually Hermione had taken a seat at the small table and Ron at the couch. Draco had to keep glancing between the two of them, still not very comfortable with the fact that he now had three former Gryffindor's in the loft. Having one stuck in the same living environment with him was one thing, he could handle Potter, he was at least entertaining, but having the sidekick and the know-it-all there as well was another story entirely. Finally, he spoke up.

"Can I get you something? Tea, some decent clothes? Maybe coffee perhaps?"

Whoops. Did he really just say that? Draco sniggered, guess so; Hermione was looking up oddly at him, and Ron was glaring daggers at him. Luckily the door to Harry's room opened and out came the raven-haired wizard to save them from the unbearable moment of silence. But in terms of clothing, he wasn't much better off than Ron with his faded blue shirt and jeans. Draco felt the urge to rush into his room and bury himself in homework to rid himself of the horrible images of badly dressed people.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried, throwing herself out of her seat. She wrapped her arms around Harry's neck in a hug that seemed to have lasted forever. This of course caught Harry off guard and he had to catch his balance quickly 'else he'd fall over. He grinned despite himself, and returned Hermione's hug.

Finally, he released the girl, still grinning. "Hey, Hermione," he said, ignoring Draco who was in the kitchen mocking them like a six year old. Harry glanced over to Ron and allowed his grin to spread even more. "Hey, mate," Harry added as the redhead joined the two of them by the table.

Ron of course wasted no time getting into things.

"Bloody hell, Harry," he said, after a moment of Harry explaining where he had been. "The States? Merlin, Mum had a fit when she found out you left after Hogwarts. She and Dad were expecting that you'd stick around for a least a week or two. But the _States_?"

Hermione hit him on the arm. "Calm down, Ron," she said. "Honestly, it's not like he left for good, is it? After all, he's sitting right next to you! We can't _all_ have stuck around after Hogwarts, you know. There are other things in the world _outside_ of London."

Harry shook his head. Typical, very typical. "Easy you two," he laughed, shaking his head again. "It wasn't all just for fun. We, me and Malfoy, did attend a school over there. I think it was Texas - the state we were at. D'you know that they barely use the Floo over there? They hardly use the fire, too. It's insane."

"But with Malfoy?" Ron blurted. Draco looked indignant.

"We, um, we met up at the university there," Harry snorted, glancing over at Draco who looked highly amused. "Rooming stuck us together. You have no idea what a pain he is to deal with in the morning. It took him nearly an hour to get ready for class once. Made us both late."

"Times up!" Draco called impatiently from the kitchen, crossing his arms over his chest with a scowl. "We've got class in fifteen minutes, Potter. It'd be nice if we could actually get there on time for a change," he sneered, looking over at Ron and Hermione. "And I'd rather you didn't leave those two here. I'd hate to come back and see some bare assets romping on the carpet. Or the couch." He paused. "I think I'm going to have nightmares now."

Hermione's cheeks flushed and Ron's ears turned red. Harry just stared at Draco who had by this point retreated back to his own room only to emerge moments later with his book bag slung over his shoulder. He looked pointedly at Harry before strolling out of the loft, leaving the door open behind him.

It took Harry only a moment or two more to say his goodbyes to his friends who had insisted that they use the floor channel to get to where they were going. Harry made a dash for his room to grab his own book bag. By the time he had finally left the small loft Draco was long gone, and he was already late for his first class.


	3. The Calming Wolf

"I dunno who I'd choose," Harry said, stretching his arms up over his head. "Divine Right of Kings was Hobbes, yeah? I dunno. He believed that humans by nature are wicked, evil, and selfish."

Hermione bit her bottom lip, tapping her quill against her right cheek. "John Locke believed humans weren't born with inborn ideas, Harry. He believed that they got their ideas from the experiences they've had during life. Like they had a blank slate, and as time passed that slate filled with both good and bad experiences," she paused, sucking on the feather tip of her quill. "Well, then there's Rousseau. He believed that reason and science were used to make humans good and follow laws made by monarchs. He also believed that humans, by nature, are good."

Harry took off his glasses, set them on the table, and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. "I don't get it though. Hobbes believed that because humans were apparently wicked by nature we can't trust them to govern themselves. So, the Divine Right of Kings was set up. An absolute monarchy, which accordingly was the best form of government. Long live the queen," he said, unenthusiastically raising one hand over his head before putting his glasses back on. "So far I'm liking Locke best. Civil liberties and the separation of church and state, whatever that means."

"It means that the church and the government aren't working together," Hermione sighed. "The church doesn't run the government," she added, before scribbling that down on to her paper. "All right so, you're going with Locke then? Right. I'll go with Rousseau, and that leaves Ron with Hobbes. Brilliant, and our papers are due Thursday next week - so we have little less than a week to finish. Should be enough time."

He nodded his head before leaning back in his chair. This may have been a university for magic, but something had compelled him to take government. True, it was magical government, but that didn't stop their professor from having them write a three page paper on one of three social contract theorists. He wasn't to thrilled to have to do this, he'd already done it once before in the States in the university he'd been attending, but only because Draco forced him into taking the class because he had sort of dragged the other boy with him to the states. Well, not even dragged. They sort of agreed.

However, now that he sat there in the university's library across from Hermione he had trouble keeping his head from dropping onto the table. He just continued to stare at his blank scroll of parchment, fumbling his quill in his hands. In five more days he knew that he would be even more tired than this, and that was what bothered him so much. For a good amount of time he had plenty of energy, some would even consider calling him hyper, but in the days leading up to a full moon he was completely drained and his attention somewhere else. He was always too busy worrying that something might happen during the night not to mention there was the little issue of avoiding being caught. That would make the perfect picture; Harry Potter the _Boy Who Lived_ found out to be a werewolf. He would be in for hell if that happened.

When Hermione shifted in her seat across from him Harry looked up, boggling at her paper. She already had one page down. "You're fast like a freak, Hermione," he commented, nodding his head to her paper. "Just thought you'd like to know.

Blinking, Hermione rolled her eyes. "We had a whole lecture on them, Harry," she pointed out. "It really was enough information to get at least a page written. Sadly, the rest I'll have to look up. _You_ should be doing the same. Why haven't you started yet?

Harry flushed, biting down on the inside of his cheek. "I guess I'm just a bit tired," he said, running his hands through his hair, as though it would wake him up some. "Malfoy's been trying to keep up with the going ons at the Ministry because of the way they're coming down with new laws restricting vampires and werewolves even more. I think he just wants a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He thinks he may be able to make a change in getting the minister to veto these new laws or something."

"It's not likely that he will be able to, Harry," said Hermione, leaning forward on her elbows. "The Pest Advisory Board, which people go to report vampires who are causing problems, is teaming up with the Werewolf Capture and Registry unit. There's been talk, of course, of the Pest Advisory Board using vampires to capture and kill out of hand werewolves and possibly unregistered werewolves. It's absolutely absurd ."

"But why would they use vampires of all creatures?"

"Harry, a vampires blood can kill a werewolf if their blood gets into the werewolf's system." Hermione bit her lip. "They've already tested it in the past. Three months ago to be exact. Remus was furious when he heard, saying that all werewolves wanted was to be considered normal people despite their infection. Which, of course, they are. If taking the Wolfsbane Potion they're harmless, you've seen for yourself just before you left."

Harry wasn't sure what he wanted to do more, yell about the rights that werewolves deserved or hand himself over to Werewolf Registry and see what they would do when they found out he was a werewolf. It really wasn't himself he was worried about though. He knew what the punishment was for infecting a human being, and Harry remembered very clearly who had infected him. But it had been an accident, however, the ministry wouldn't see it as such - they wouldn't care.

He glared down at his parchment angrily, unawares that he was doing it. Why didn't people see that all werewolves wanted were too be looked at like they were normal people? It wasn't fair. There was no cure to the infection, and none of them had actually asked to be infected. During the full moon was when the wolf mind took over, the human mind was at a loss to do anything unless there was Wolfsbane involved. His quill snapped, covering his fingers in thick, sticky black ink. It took him a minute or two before he finally realized that he had been gripping his quill to tightly, and his thumb snapped it.

"Sorry, Hermione," Harry said quickly. He stood up, all but throwing his things back into his bag. "I'll work on the paper later, but right now I've got to talk with someone," he finished, quickly darting out of the library in which they had been discussing social contract theorists and the latest happenings at the Ministry of Magic.

Harry didn't quite know why, but as he sped up on the way back to the loft, his eyes began to burn with tears that wouldn't shed. He knew he wasn't supposed to be this upset, but he was. He wanted to be angry at Hermione, but he couldn't. It wasn't because of her this was happening, but she was the one who had told him. He needed to see Remus, but he couldn't, not just now. It was too early. Harry squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, willing the burning sensation of tears refusing to fall to go away, and clenched his hands into balled fists around the strap of his book bag. He finally reached the loft.

For a moment the nineteen year old fumbled with the key, and pounded on the door once before finally getting the key into the hole. With a soft click, the door unlocked and he threw it open, slamming it closed behind him.

"Malfoy!" He called, dropping his bag to the floor. "C'mon, c'mon - be home, please be home," he pleaded quietly, looking around franticly. He could feel his fingernails digging into his palm, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. "Malfoy! _Malfoy_!"

He paced back and forth uneasily, digging his nails deeper into the flesh of his palm until it was painful, but he didn't stop. He couldn't.

"Holy Merlin, Potter, calm down!" Came Draco's voice from his bedroom door.

Harry swallowed thickly. "I'm going mad," Harry said, in a moment of clarity. "I swear, I'm going bonkers. The things the Ministry is doing to and about werewolves! Bleeding hell, Malfoy, have you heard? They're killing unregistered werewolves for Merlin's sake! We should have stayed in the states. I should have stayed in the states-"

Suddenly there was a strong hand gripping the back of Harry's throat and something inside Harry broke through his daze of panic and recognized that hand for what it was. Harry dropped to the carpet of the loft, his body still as he stared up at Draco's gray eyes.

"Your little wolf still knows when to calm," Draco said, his hand tightening around Harry's throat. "You won't be able to solve anything if all you can do is throw a tantrum, Potter."

Harry swallowed and unconsciously leaned his head back, baring his throat, wincing inwardly. He truly hated when Draco would do this to him, but it did calm him down even if all it did was to prove that in some way that Draco was in charge.

When the older boy released Harry's throat slowly, Harry just stared down at the floor, breathing in and out slowly. "It's not right," he said hoarsely, looking up half way, not able to meet his roomies eyes again. "We were better off in the states."

Draco sighed and moved to the couch, and sat down. "You've got to face your problems as they come, Potter. You've run from them once already, you can't do it a second time."

Defeated and still on his knees, Harry tilted his head back once more, this time to stare up at the ceiling. "Can't I though?" He asked, standing up. He moved to sit beside Draco on the couch, curled up, and rested his head on his lap, staring down at the carpet before them. He didn't know why he did just that, but he did.

Draco turned slightly, looking down at the younger boy, both eyebrows raised. "What are you doing?"

Harry closed his eyes. "I don't know, trying to rest. What does it look like?"

"Like you're using my lap as a pillow, puppy."

"Bugger off."


	4. Take a Walk

Ignorance is bliss. That's what he had always believed, and he believed that even now. He refused to believe anything was any different now than it had been when he left. He simply refused. Nothing, not even Pansy's whining or Blaise's brooding; it just made him want to ravel in what had never changed. To him they would always stay the same, though they would age but _they_ stayed the same. Pansy would always be his Pansy, and Blaise would always remain his Blaise, the spoilt lot that he grew up with. He had left everyone, and they had all stayed behind.

He was only walking a few feet being Harry and his lot. With Pansy and Blaise at his side Draco felt a bit like the seventeen year old he had been, and he smirked a little. It was strange how much going away could do to someone, and then coming back to the place you had left. Some people made it seem like you never left at all while others refused to let you forget how they were left behind. That was what Pansy was doing, currently running her mouth off. Draco played it off as though he was actually paying attention. By the looks of it, Blaise was too. The blonde stifled a snigger.

Sometimes, Draco mused, it was good to be back - to be around people that he actually knew, even if Harry was unsure about it. He couldn't go about letting the Boy Who Lived To Become Wolf-Boy run his life. No, he would only help him with his own. He had learned that within the past a few months that the Potter boy wasn't just some big shot fame surrounded bloke who got lucky as a baby. No, he was a fame surrounded block who got lucky as a baby and now had a problem that the wizarding world couldn't know about. Not yet. There were times when Draco wondered just how much he had changed compared to Harry.

Even now Draco felt himself comparing himself to Pansy and Blaise. They were still up to date with the going ons in the pureblood families, still aware of which families were highly ranked. And Draco? He didn't know anymore. He thought that he felt at as much a loss as Harry. Draco had thrown away all the chances he could have had for a life in London that past year, even if it meant that he might have very well ended up in Azkaban. He really had Harry to thank. It was a very silly thing really.

Draco Malfoy had been, and currently is, living with Harry Potter the boy who had refused his friendship more than seven years ago. But it was Harry that had grown, not he. Draco just didn't notice it yet.

"Love," Pansy snipped, linking her arm with Draco's. "You're not paying attention. I've just got done telling you how Blaise's family's ranks are going up and the Bulstrode's are slowly going down. It's all to do with our government. Mother says that it's complete bollocks. Of course, Father won't hear a word of it. Too ashamed of being fourth highest ranking among the families, I think."

Blaise sniggered to this and Pansy was quick to stomp on his foot as they walked. Using her heal no less. "Come off it, Pansy," the dark skinned boy snapped, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Not all of us are so lucky as the Black's and the Malfoy's. How they manage to stay up top is beyond me." With that the boy leered over at Draco, arching his eyebrows before continuing. "Though, the fact still remains that there are _no_ Black's left, and their name has yet to fall from it's spot. Your family happens to be fourth, mine is only at sixth, and the Malfoy's are still where they've always been. Fancy that, eh, Draco?"

"Not really," The blonde sniffed. "I haven't got any plans on procreating. Let the name Malfoy fall with it's family by marriage I say, and to hell with what Mother says. It's all got to do with the money, you see. When they finally gave Aunt Bella her final sentencing Father's insanity had rubbed on to Mother, now all she can think about is keeping the good, pardon, the sordid name of Malfoy alive, only she can't marry and keep the last name."

Pansy sighed, fanning her face with her hand, bored with the subject. One could only talk about money and family ranking for so long. It got quite boring after a while, you see. Especially if it was all that your family ever talked about anymore. From the morning meal all the way to late night tea! It might have been made better had she other people to converse with, sadly, she was stuck with only Blaise to talk with while Draco had been studying abroad.

"Oh!" The short haired girl exclaimed, patting Draco's arm with her free hand. "I've heard from Millie just the other day."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "She still have a face like a bag of spanners, then? You know, she could get rid of that nasty little problem of hers. No wonder her family is slipping-"

"Draco, love, shut up for a moment." Pansy quipped, tugging him on, clearly ignoring the snickers coming from Blaise. "She's got some interesting news on the going ons inside the Ministry. Which is really quite shocking if you actually stop to think about it. Our Millie!"

"Oh, dear little Millie, all grown up with a face uglier than a pug!"

"Blaise _do_ keep your mouth shut. All sorts of silly things tend to come out," Pansy snapped. "Anyway, Millie says that the Ministry is rounding up all magical creatures that can talk for questioning and possible registration. However, there's a flaw in this. The werewolves. Because they're possibly the most restricted of the creatures that can walk around with witches and wizards, which mind you is very wrong and should be against the law, there are many unregistered werewolves who wont come for the round up."

Here it was again. Of course Draco already knew about all of this. It was the main reason why Harry wanted to flee from England again. Hearing it all come from Pansy was bound to make his ears bleed.

- - - - -

Harry wasn't exactly sure why any of them were taking this walk. It was like the walk from hell. Three former Gryffindors and three former Slytherins. Actually, it was very upsetting, mostly due to the fact that Ron kept turning around, insisting that 'the former snakes are talking about us, and planning to kill us in our sleep'. Torn between wanting to laugh or shake his head and question his friends sanity he just left Hermione nudge him and tell him to stop staring because it wasn't the polite thing to do. This walk could hardly be considered a walk. It was more like a trudge. Possibly because Harry was trudging.

"Y'know what I figure?" Ron asked, folding his hands behind his head as they continued to walk. "I figure if he make a mad dash we could possibly loose them for a good hour. I mean it can't be hard. Look at her, Pansy's like an anchor to Malfoy. I almost feel sorry for the bloke."

Hermione rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue softly to herself as she continued to walk on the other side of Harry. Wrapping her sweater closer to her body she gave a small huff. "I could be working on my government paper. We all could be working on that paper, somewhere where it's warm, and where we're not bound to freeze." She said. But it wasn't that cold, and she knew it. Just a bit chilly with a fair bit of frost as the early sign of snow settling it. But not freezing.

Harry shrugged at his two friends.

"Dunno. I'd rather be sleeping myself," he commented, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Cursing silently when he realized that he hadn't brought his wand with him. "I was up late working on that paper, and now all I want to do is sleep."

"You were working on that paper? You, at night, late?" Ron asked, baffled. Hermione glanced over, raising her eyebrows questioningly as if she hadn't heard any bit of what Harry had said.

Harry shrugged once more. "Not really no. Just thought it might make Hermione feel better if I said I did." He stifled a yawn, pushing his hands further down in his jacket. "Anyway, I suppose I'd better stop by Remus' place later and tell him I'm back in town again, yeah? I mean it's been a year after all.

Hermione smiled at him. "I think he'd like that, Harry."


	5. I'm Sorry

It was late in the evening and the rain had continued to fall, a cold chill nipping at the back of his neck. Nothing was going to make him move from his spot on the stone wall as he watched lights flicker on and off in the small house. He didn't want to believe he was sitting out in the pouring, freezing rain too scared to walk up to the door and ring the bell. He was too afraid of change and too afraid of how much had changed over the last year or so. It was like he couldn't move, like something had glued him to the stone wall where he had been sitting even before the rain had begun to fall.

He put his head to his knees and gave a groan. It felt so strange to be alone in the rain again. There was a certain emptiness about it that was all too familiar, and he deathly wished that he could forget. If he could forget a number of things then all would be right in the world. He would be able to forget the day he left, that bleak rainy day that he found himself seeking out Draco Malfoy for help, for a secret keeper. The day that the two of them left London and disappeared. Harry wondered if he could ever be forgiven for his rash way of thinking.

And there it was. Like a slap on the face the front door opened and light poured out on to the wet pavement. He froze lifting his head nervously. A figure moved into the door way and slowly started out, an umbrella popping open over head. Harry hid his face back down on his knees, squeezing his eyes shut. Not knowing what to expect he drew in a breath, listening as each step got closer, and the smell of chocolate, tea, and mint got nearer. It was both comforting and mortifying.

"You'll catch a cold," Remus said faintly, standing before the stone wall, looking up at the boy.

Harry turned his head. "I wont," he replied, looking down at the older man. "You know I wont."

"Come inside, you'll be warmer."

"I'll be a lot of things if I go inside."

There wasn't much else to be said. Remus held out his hand to help Harry down and Harry stared at it a moment, as if he were offended by it. He took it, raveled in the warmth that the one hand gave and slid off of the wall and under the cover of the umbrella. The two of them walked in silence back to the small house, Harry with his eyes cast downward and Remus with lines of worry etched across his brow. Harry found himself surrounded by the sent of chocolate, tea and mint, three smells that went oddly together.

As they entered the house Remus told Harry to wait at the door while he fetched him a towel. He returned moments later with an old, large brown towel with he draped over Harry's shoulders, watching as the boy pulled it closer around himself. The two of them entered the dining room in silence, Harry taking in his surrounding. It was homely, small, and well kept. He liked it. They sat around a small round table, each with a cup of tea in front of them, neither saying a word to the other. Eventually, one of them spoke.

"Harry, I'm sorry," Remus said quietly. "It was a horrible thing, what happened, and I only wish that I could take it back."

Harry shook his head, taking the cut of tea in his hands. "Don't," he said, finally looking. "Don't be sorry. I'm the sorry one. I left and I didn't want to come back. I left not knowing what I was going to do because I hadn't stuck around to ask. I didn't know what to do."

Again, the two fell into silence as Harry picked up his cup and took a sip of tea. He felt his hands tightening around the cup and he set it down. He didn't know what he was supposed to be feeling at that moment. He didn't know what he wanted to be feeling. Was he happy, mad, confused? Perhaps he was just thinking too much about it, but something in the air made him tense. It was the same feeling he felt the day he left; it was demanding, telling him he should listen. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to listen to anything, he just wanted to be forgiven for the stupid things he had done and said before he left.

"How've you been getting on, then?" Remus' voice broke through the silence, commanding Harry's attention. "Well, I hope."

The boy faltered a moment before shrugging. "Fair, I suppose. Still in school - university. Got a paper due next week."

Silence again.

Harry swore that if these pauses of silence were to keep happening, then he would scream.

"I'm confused, Remus," Harry admitted absently. "Being here makes me want to run, I dunno where, just run. But I want to be here. I want you to know that I am sorry. Really, it's taken me a whole year to realize some of the stupid things I've done, the stupidest having run away. I shouldn't have been in that room that night - I thought, you know, that you'd had your potion, and everything was fine."

It was his turn to be silent, though he wanted to drop his head on the table and forget that he had ever said anything at all. Was he babbling - was he even making sense? Harry's mind was just one giant ball of utter confusion where everything wanted to come out at once, like water being let out of a dam. Once it started coming out it was almost impossible to stop. The same could have been said about his emotions. One minute he wanted to scream at the world, the next he wanted to break the table in half, and then he wanted to let it all go and have a good cry over how stupid everything seemed in retrospect.

"You're mum and dad would've killed me, you know," Remus admitted thoughtful, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "I suppose Sirius wouldn't rightly forgive me either."

Harry shrugged. "But they're not here," he said, furrowing his eyebrows together. "They can't do anything about it."

Remus smiled. "God save the queen for that, too."

They talked a bit longer. Harry mentioning in detail the places he had been, the schools he had gone to. Never once did he mention who he was with the entire time he was gone, no did he mention who he was currently staying with. Even when Remus offered to let him stay there Harry shook his head. He couldn't leave Malfoy to himself anymore than he trusted himself alone and at Remus. He admitted that the thought of running away again was still fresh on his mind. He didn't tell the older man about his worries with the ministry. That could wait for another day, he figured.

And before the night was over, Harry left go. He had all be collapsed in tears, everything from the past year seeming to come back all at once. Harry knew the dam had finally broke and he could only be glad that it had broke where it did. He cried and cried, and with each sob he began to feel better like all he needed was a good cry, and maybe, just maybe that was exactly what Harry needed.

- - - -

**A/N:** Bahaha. It's sort. It's crappy. But it's an update. Not exactly what I had in mind for this chapter, but then again, I suppose it's better than nothing, and it's about time that his old thing got updated.


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